


Ignition

by Dctr



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Age Changes, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Based on Halloween skins, Cameos, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Overwatch - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-25
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-15 03:56:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29678064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dctr/pseuds/Dctr
Summary: Straight A's med student Jack sneaks into a monster halloween party, falls in love with a pizza delivery guy and gets dragged into Texas hold 'em with extremely high stakes, all in one night.
Relationships: Fareeha "Pharah" Amari/Angela "Mercy" Ziegler, Reaper | Gabriel Reyes/Soldier: 76 | Jack Morrison
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	Ignition

Moving from his little town in Indiana to California to pursue medicine, Jack was prepared for almost anything. 

He'd encountered monsters in his hometown before. The few are mostly shunned by townsfolk and not talked about at all—he remembered asking about the werewolf man down the street when he was little, getting disapproving looks from everyone. He thinks he can manage when his parents warn him of them in the big city. 

Jack wasn't prepared for monsters being somewhat of a norm here. 

His roommate is a witch. When he first moved into their shared apartment, nothing could have given it away. She looked to be every bit a normal college student, albeit more chirpy and warm than he would've expected. All he knows about city kids come from the television back home. His pretty Swiss roommate didn't seem to fit the bill of 'tired, rude, coffee-dependant human'. 

It was only after two weeks did he catch her in the middle of brewing a potion, three hours after midnight when he'd crawled out of bed. 

"Can't sleep?" she had asked, concerned. As if it was absolutely normal to be brewing potions late at night. 

He tries to be respectful about her being a witch, of course. Angela has been nothing but kind to him ever since they'd met on the first day of school. She is, certainly, the only friend he has made so far. Besides helping him with med school work, she makes it a point to eat with him whenever she can during lunch breaks. Most importantly, she spices up his otherwise insanely dull life. 

Her side of the room is brimming with knickknacks he can't for life identify, endless rows of books, and little potted plants she names after each of her seemingly endless number of friends. She's only a year his senior, but he doubts he'll ever be able to accumulate that many friends in his entire life. 

When she's not reading or creating concoctions or making out on the bed with her extremely intimidating girlfriend, who doesn't seem to like him very much, Jack has the whole room to himself. Which is great for studying—he does want to make the dean's list every year. This engineering student by the name of Satya Vaswani has done it, so it isn't impossible. 

Jack tries socializing, really. Even made a couple of hi bye friends in his classes. That's already more than his friends in Indiana, which he can count on a single hand. 

The med student next door, albeit friendly, is a little too out of sorts for his liking. Her apartment looks like a parkour at best and a biohazard emergency at worst. Sometimes, Jack thinks he hears shrill screams in the night that sound almost animalistic. He'd chart it up to his imagination so far, but understands why roommates of hers come and go faster than lightning. 

One thing he knows for sure, he'd rather die rotting in his godforsaken room than be a third wheel on one of Angela's dates, despite her multiple threats to knock him out and drag him back to civilization. 

Apparently the lack of human contact bites at Jack more than he'd like to admit. It's the fourth time in the week he's ordered pizza from the same place. 

"You have a huge thing for pizza?" 

The delivery guy who Jack may have a crush on, asks. 

He has his modular, black-tinted helmet on as always, dark jacket and gloves covering every inch of skin. Jack hasn't even seen the guy's face and he's already head over heels for him. It's pathetic, but his shame has dropped to a record-breaking level ever since he'd arrived in Los Angeles. He intends to keep up the streak. 

Probably-hot-beneath-the-helmet guy cocks his head to the side. Jack realizes he'd been staring for too long to be considered normal by human standards. "Just the ones you guys make." 

"Thanks from Talon's, I guess." 

It's ridiculous to be this infatuated. Jack, for the fourth time, attempts to put traits on the guy based on his illegally attractive drawl of a voice. So far he's got male, likely a smoker, and probably under thirty down. Said male makes a move to leave. 

"Wait!" he calls, his brain helpfully supplying nothing to follow up with. "I, um." 

The other pauses like he's thinking hard. "By any chance did Moira put you up to this?" 

Jack has no clue what his eccentric neighbor might have to do with this pizza ordering thing. He shrugs and hopes it's the correct answer. 

"Figures. She actually pays for pizza just so I can waste gas? Fucking—" 

He realizes he's ranting to a complete stranger and his head snaps up immediately. "Sorry, got carried away. Can't believe she dragged you into this shit. You probably have better things to do." He pauses again, looking like he's about to say something before deciding the better of it. "Right. Seeya 'round." 

Delivery guy gives a little two-finger salute and turns to leave. Jack tries his best not to evaporate on the spot.

He doesn't order pizza for three weeks. The delivery guy likely thinks it was Moira who set the whole thing up. Eventually, he calls Talon's, less so to clarify the mistake than to hear his voice again. 

"Talon's Pizza, how can I help you?" 

A lady with a heavy French accent answers this time. In a state of panic, Jack drops the phone and the line goes dead after a couple of "hello's?" on the other end. 

Angela gives him a bemused look from behind her book. "You know, you've been ordering pizza an awful lot lately." 

"Who told you that?" Angela was never home when he ordered. 

"Moira." Delivery guy must've confronted her about it then. Jack is in a hot mess and he has no one but himself to blame. "Look, I didn't mean to—" 

"Oh, don't worry about it," the witch gives a faint giggle, returning to her book. "Moira thanks you for pinning such a, I quote, 'wonderful crime' on her. Are you... perhaps into Amélie?" 

"Amélie who?" Right. He hasn't came out to his roommate of five months. 

She studies him for a long moment. "You're into the delivery guy." 

Jack's pretty sure she used witchcraft. There was no way she could've known he was into men just by looking at him, let alone knew who his subject of interest was. 

"Oh, you're really into Reaper!" 

"You know him? Is he, you know...?" 

"I know _of_ him. He was a hitman, then quit to become a delivery guy recently. Quite the odd story. And yes, he is a wraith monster I believe. If you want to see him, come with me to tonight's party! A little bird told me he'll be there." 

It's a trap. Jack knows it, and damn if he isn't going to walk straight into it. Now he knows his crush isn't just a pizza delivery man, he's a _wraith monster pizza delivery hitman_.

"Fine, I guess a college party can't be too wild. But don't expect me to stay for long."

It actually does wind up being pretty wild, even before they get there. He learns that the party is not just a regular booze-filled college shenanigan. It's a monster casino party. 

Jack has one little problem. He's human. Not only that, monsters can smell humans. He's in luck, since his friend is a makeup-expert witch. Hours before the party, she dolls him up in pale white powder, elaborate eyeshadow and a couple of scars for effect. She even tops it off with a hockey mask, just in case he gets recognised. He gives an appreciative whistle at the 90's slasher-look she gave him. 

"I like it, but what am I exactly?" 

"I don't know, some kind of ghoul perhaps. No one will question it. Ghouls are a dime a dozen." 

For a final touch, she douses him in a potion she claims will remove his human scent. 

The witch is in her full element, little black dress, knee-high boots and a classic hat to top it all off. Fareeha has traded her leather jacket and jeans for an actual metal armor. She's headless, tendrils of blue smoke rising from where her neck starts. Blood Moon Night amplifies every monster's powers according to the Monster 101 lecture Angela gave him while doing his makeover. 

A ride in Fareeha's sedan, two kilometers of walking through winding dark streets and asking about fifteen strangers later, they arrive at an underground parking space in a deserted building. Rusted cars surround them, most with their windows smashed in. Angela eyes her girlfriend, looking way too pleased with herself for having gotten this far. 

"Over there!" she exclaims, pointing to the set of doors tucked away in a corner. There is, however, a huge Frankenstein blocking the entrance. 

"Passes," he grunts once they've made their way across the parking space. 

"Umm, we dropped them on the way here...?" tries his ever-pure roommate. 

"You don't have passes?" Jack hisses within her earshot.

"I just heard about this party from a friend, I didn't know we needed invite _invites_!" 

The Frankenstein makes a huffing sound. "No passes? Scram." 

"Don't speak to her like that." Fareeha looks like she's about to take the bouncer on. Headless fighter pilot in armor versus 800-pound Frankenstein is not a fight he signed up for. 

"Easy, they're with me." A voice intervenes. 

Jack spins around, drinking in the source of his wet dreams. In place of his signature modular helmet is an actual pumpkin head, golden glowing eyes for carvings. A leather overcoat that runs to the floor hangs on his shoulders, wisps of smoke trailing from the back. 

It's sort of like the fantasy Jack has been dreaming about, playing out in slow-motion when Reaper finally turns to him and goes, "Hey." Except this time it happens in the shady entrance of a casino, not a bedroom, and Jack doesn't get to fuck the brains out of his insanely hot monster crush. 

A loud 'hmph' snaps him back to real-time speed. 

The hulk of a monster, after no much deliberation, steps aside and yanks the heavy set of doors open. 

"Oh, thank you so very much! Reaper, is it?" his little witch friend beams once they've stepped inside, descending a worn-down staircase to another door. 

"In the flesh," he replies, then adds quietly, "though I don't think I can call this flesh exactly." 

The contrast hits them instantly as soon as they've pushed through the last door. Huge chandeliers hang from the towering ceiling, crystalline staircases snaking up to another floor bustling with as much activity as the one they currently stand on. 

All around them, tables of casino games are surrounded by monsters Jack has never even heard of, let alone seen. There are regulars—vampires, fairies, to some he can't quite name but definitely hail from the oceans and skies. He can't keep from staring at everything and anything around them. 

"No fair, this is so rigged!" yells a nine-tailed fox near them, huffing angrily at the omnic serpent-looking dealer who only has what can be described as a poker face. "Yuna, you tell him!" The demon beside her drags her away from the table, looking apologetic and shushing her up with 'we can play another game' and 'everyone's staring'. 

"Wow. Is there anything we can do to repay you? Anything from my friend, maybe?" Angela, in her unsubtle glory, motions to him. 

"Sure, that'd be great," Reaper laughs, eyeing Jack. This time he does evaporate on the spot, deer caught in the glowing lights of his eyes. "Round of poker with my favorite customer?"

Reaper leads Jack through the absolute chaos of the underground casino to the elevator—in all its golden glory—and hits the 'down' button. Just how far down does this place run? 

"How'd you know I'm—" 

"You bunk in with Angela, Olivia told me. And your voice is recognisable." 

"Good way or bad?" 

Reaper shrugs. "I like it." 

Jack feels a rush of heat make its way onto his face. "So, you're pretty powerful around here?" 

"I work for the guy who runs this show. You know, pizza." 

He isn't sure if Reaper's joking. Jack's feeling a little brave from the adrenaline rush, so he pushes on. "What do we get out of poker?" 

A ding of the elevator and the doors slide open. "If you win, you get my services for a night." 

"Hitman services?" Jack feels his face flush anyway, stepping into the shared space with him. "I don't need you to take out anyone." 

"I can do a different, uh, kind of... taking out." 

_Oh._

"And if I lose?" 

Reaper runs his hand to his neck. Jack has half a second to process that he's about to take off his helmet, that he's finally going to see the face of the man he'd been picturing for a month. 

In place of a head is gold smoke, curling from his neck into the air. 

"You help me get my head back."


End file.
